


between you and me

by siverk



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: (some), Amputation, Angst, Canon Dialogue, Canon-Typical Violence, Dorian Pavus is a Good Friend, Eventual Smut, F/M, Human Cole (Dragon Age), Inquisitor & Dorian Pavus Friendship, James is trying his best, Kidnapping, M/M, Mage Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Medical Trauma, Minor The Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, Post-Canon, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, Self-Esteem Issues, Team as Family, The Anchor (Dragon Age), Trust Issues, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Varric Tethras is a Good Friend, like so many, someone hug james
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:48:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21965959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siverk/pseuds/siverk
Summary: “Lady Cousland,” He says, nodding towards her. Her laugh is bright and his face must be burning with how hot it feels. Maker, this woman.“Oh please, James. We’ve been over this. Call me Elaine.”-In which James Trevelyan finds a new purpose after the loss of the Anchor and Elaine Cousland helps save the world (again).
Relationships: Female Cousland/Male Trevelyan (Dragon Age), Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, Male Inquisitor/Female Warden (Dragon Age)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. |1| - One Last Hurrah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which James solidifies friendships, learns the truth about Solas, and discovers that the Anchor must be removed.

**9:44 -** **Halamshiral**

“If I get in over my head, or you’re overwhelmed with sorrow for lack of my velvety voice - Magic!” James laughed wetly, watching as the sunlight glinted off of the crystal, an ache forming in his chest. To say that he had been afraid when Dorian announced he was leaving would be an understatement. Reaching behind his neck, he tied the cord and let the crystal drop against his chest. “What- you didn’t think I would just leave and you’d never get to hear from me again, did you?” Dorian placed a hand on his shoulder, and James ran a hand down his face.

“Well, I certainly didn’t expect you to stay for this long.” James huffed, his eyes stinging slightly. “I was … worried.” He grinned at Dorian, watching as he shook his head, a fond smile appearing on his face.

“You are my dearest friend - perhaps my only friend.“ Dorian shakes his head, correcting himself, “That will never change, no matter where we are.” James shoved Dorian's shoulder slightly.

“You’re a sap.” Dorian huffed.

“Let’s finish the good wine before the others get back.”

* * *

“See, I have these friends. And all of them were the wrong sort of whatever. Their place changed, or it never was. So together we made an ‘us’.” James raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “Everyone needs an ‘us’. And when the world is done saying no and calls you the wrong sort of whatever, maybe we can be that ‘us’ for you?” James felt his mouth curling into the same smile as Sera’s, watching as one of her friends crouched down beside her. “What do you think, Inquisitor? Want to run some rooftops as a Jenny?” James barked out a laugh, shaking his head slightly.

“Of course, Sera.” He said, letting his forearms rest on the table. “I would love too.” At that, Sera let a delighted giggle. James clutched at his glass, tilting it to both Sera and her friend. “To all my friends.”

“Always and ever, Inquisitor. Always and ever.”

* * *

James laughed over his cards at Josephine as Cullen, arms crossed over his chest, admitted defeat to her once more. Varric clapped him on the back and began to sweep up the cards, laughing along to Bull’s story. The rest of his friends surrounded the table, everyone pressed knee to knee. Dorian was nestled beside him, winking at him over his wine glass as they made eye contact. James just snorted, rolling his eyes. It was nice to have downtime like this, where everyone was free. Especially now that things were getting more complicated.

“You up for another round, Firefly?” Varric tapped on the table in front of him, and James shook his head.

“I’ll sit this one out. I want to see Cullen lose again.” Varric laughed at that, and James leant his forearms onto the table, clutching his right elbow in a vice-like grip. Not here. Not now.

His pains had been getting worse, the last couple of months. They would leave him numb from his fingertips up into his shoulder sometimes, and not two days ago he hadn’t been able to move his arm for almost an hour afterwards. But it was always in private. His Inner Circle knew about the pains from the Anchor, sure. But they didn’t know the full extent of it. And James was inclined to keep it that way. Everyone had a lot on their plates anyway. It wouldn’t do any good for them to be afraid for his health.

“Sharp but soft, an ache that leaves you numb after.” James blinked, startled, as Cole’s voice, ever as dreamlike and soft, snapped him out of his thoughts. The boy stood beside him, hands fiddling with the sleeves of his too-long tunic. James swallowed down his pain and flashed a smile at Cole, patting an empty seat next to him.

“Why don’t you sit down, Cole?” He asked, wincing slightly as a stabbing pain shot up his wrist through to his elbow. Cole remained standing, eyes seemingly impossible large from where they peeked out underneath his hat.

“You.. hurt. I… can help.” Cole tilted his head, voice hesitant. James sighed, right hand curled into a fist as the Anchor let out another hot wave of pain. His hands were shaking, he was sure of it.

“Thank you, Cole.” He said earnestly, mouth feeling dry. James could feel the eyes on him from Varric and Bull, though he knew they were mostly concerned about Cole. “But I’d feel much better if you’d just sit here with me.” Cole frowned at that but moved to sit beside James, knees scrunched up to his chest. James just patted him on the shoulder with his good hand, nodding assuredly at Varric. He leant in, almost whispering into Cole’s ear. “I’ll tell you if it gets too much, alright?” A soft smile appeared on Cole’s face, and James sat back almost breathing a sigh of relief.

His relief didn’t last long. The burning feeling was coming again and Maker, he hated this the most. It was as if every nerve in his arm was on fire, the Anchor angrily sparking under his gove. James let out an uneven breath, closing his eyes for a moment. Grimacing, James rubbed at the palm of his hand with his thumb.

“I’ll be back in a moment.” He said in a strangled voice, turning and briskly walking out the door and into the gardens. It was just as peaceful as it had been when he had first visited the Winter Palace. Although, there was a lack of assassinated bodies lying around. He tucked himself into a corner, surrounded by large hedges and the castle walls.

James pried off his glove, almost gasping in pain as the Anchor shot sparks of green fade energy, his fingers reflexively curling up around his palm. Where his sleeve ended, James could see the barest hint of green under his skin. Cursing, he clutched his hand to his chest as the tearing feeling ripped through his arm. Breathing harshly, he let out a strangled groan, before clapping a hand over his mouth. Maker, if anyone saw this… Josephine would have his head. He pressed his back up against the wall, vision tilting as the Anchor hissed and spat.

“James?” The voice was distant, almost as if he were underwater. He couldn’t even tell who it was. Someone’s hands were on him and he batted at them, vision blurry. He felt sick, the world spinning as he raised his head slightly. They forced his arm away from where it was clutched to his chest, and James heard a quiet noise. “James.” Cole’s voice cut through the haze, shifting James onto his side. James flinched, eyes screwed shut, as another bolt of pain shot through his arm, letting out a half-sob.

“Cole.” James coughed, letting out another cry of pain as his arm twitched with another burst of fading energy. He took in a shuddering breath, throat feeling hoarse, face sticky and wet with tears. It almost hurt to breathe with the way the pain was shooting from his arm to his chest. There was a pulse of pain, and his head span, the world shifting and tinted green. Distantly, he could hear someone humming a song his mother had sung to him when he was a child. James felt the pain receding, leaving a cold numbness in its wake. He was too hot and too cold at the same time, skin flushed and warm but cool inside. 

“-did the right thing, kid.” James blinked slowly, his heart beating in his ears. Was that Varric’s voice? He couldn’t exactly tell, with his vision still blurred and tinted green. There was a hand on his forehead and he groaned, ears ringing slightly. His head slumped against the cool grass, an immediate relief for his hot skin. The world tilted, and his vision faded into black.

* * *

James felt like he was floating, body weightless, the quiet surrounding him. Distantly, he could hear a conversation, but whoever it was was being quiet. Maker, he was tired. His right arm felt numb, and he only really knew it was there because he could feel it against his leg. He wondered how long he had been out for. What he had missed. But James didn’t need to worry about that right now. He was content to let himself drift in and out of consciousness, too drained to even open his eyes.

James didn’t know how long he laid there alone, but what he assumed was a couple of hours later, he was awoken by a hand wiping the hair off of his forehead. It was a little startling, but whoever this was likely didn’t think he was conscious. The person was humming, and James let himself relax a bit. Ah, Cole.

“He kept pushing it down, cold, aching pain until it became too much… It ate at him, tearing him apart from the inside.” Cole’s voice was quiet, almost sad, and James felt a pang in his heart. His problem with the Anchor wasn't supposed to spiral out of control like this. It wasn't supposed to _hurt_ anyone, least of all Cole.

“You did what you could kid.” Bull’s voice was low, trying to comfort Cole. “I didn’t see it at all.” There was a huff. James wasn’t sure if Bull was laughing or annoyed at him. It was kind of hard to tell without opening his eyes. “I didn’t see it because he didn’t want me too. But you saw it _because_ he wanted you too.” There was a moment of silence before Cole spoke up again.

“I-I couldn’t _help_ him.” Maker, Cole… He wanted to reach up and touch his hand, tell the boy that he was alright. That he didn’t need someone to look after him. He felt the fingers on his right-hand twitch. Well, at least those still worked.

“James?” Bull’s hand brushed over his hand, and James wiggled his fingers slightly. There was an actual chuckle from Bull, and he let his mouth part, groaning a little. He opened his eyes as best he could, squinting slightly. His sight in his right eye was a little blurry, but everything else seemed fine. Cole was sitting to his left, arms wrapped around his knees, hat clutched tightly between his hands. To his right, Bull was watching him slowly wake up, a stern expression on his face. Was Bull mad at him? It would be fair if he was.

“Hnn..” James’ mouth was dry, and he felt strange. His body was so heavy. When had it gotten so heavy? Bull just huffed, shaking his head.

“You gave us all a scare, Boss.” James blinked, the words taking a moment to sink in.

“Didn… mean too.” He slurred, his tongue feeling stiff and unnatural in his mouth. His eyelids felt like lead, and he tried desperately to keep himself awake. Cole shifted, and he felt cold hands cupping his face.

“Sleep,” Cole said, and James nodded, which just made him feel sick, and then he was drifting.

* * *

His head hurt. A lot. The arguing going on between his advisors and Inner Circle certainly wasn’t helping. James rubbed at his temple, jaw grinding. Maker, why was everyone so loud?

They had been at this for hours, and nothing had gotten done. Between the nobles, the whole Qunari situation, and now the spies in the Inquisition… James didn’t know if anything else could make the situation worse. Well, besides the mark that was slowly expanding down his arm. James sighed, wincing as Sera loudly protested against something that Josephine said, which just made Lelianna snap at Sera.

James was still technically on bed rest, a vote on which he had been outnumbered eleven to one. But they had made an exception for now. Now, when everything was in chaos. Everyone was at their wit’s end. Even him. (Though, if James seriously thought about it, he had been teetering between ‘fine’ and ‘emotionally compromised’ since he fell out of the Fade in Haven). He drew the blanket around his shoulders tighter, pressing himself down in his chair. Everyone else had moved closer to the war table, leaving him to watch their backs as they bickered. There was a lull in the chaos, and Cullen spoke up.

“How are we supposed to fight a war when we can’t even trust our own people?” Cullen had his arms crossed over his chest, scowling. James bit his tongue, wanting to bite back about the mages and the Grey Wardens. But it wasn’t his place.

“I fought to protect the Inquisition in this Exalted Council. And for what?” Josephine’s voice shook, and Leliana gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “So we could deceive and threaten those we claimed to protect?” James sighed. They were both right. That was the problem here. A familiar tingle began to spread across his right palm, static building. Maker. Why did it always happen at the worst times?

Cullen bit back at her, Josephine replying quickly, but James was too busy trying not to swear at his stupid fucking hand. What good was a magical key if it could kill him at any moment?

“We did what was right, not what was politically convenient!” The tension was rising in the room, and James swallowed, his arm beginning to burn. He pressed his feet against the ground, attempting to center himself. He couldn’t have another fit here, not in front of everyone. Cole and Varric seeing him like that was bad enough. They had told everyone a summarized version of events, but Cole had seen him writhing on the ground in pain. Varric had seen him sobbing like a child, curling up in the dirt. He didn't want anyone else to be forced to take care of him, especially not now.

“Do you know what this has cost us with Orlais and Ferelden? They are planning to dismantle us as we speak!” There was a ripple of disbelief through the room. James bit at the inside of his mouth, leg shaking as he tried to distract himself. Did his Inner Circle truly believe that the Inquisition would last forever? Even he knew that the Inquisition wouldn’t make it that far past defeating Corypheus. Really, it was impressive that they were still standing. “And perhaps they are right.” There was a flare of pain in his arm, and James bit down hard on his lip, curling around his arm. He pressed his hand to his mouth, shaking, and drew away when he felt something wet. Shit. There was blood on his hand.

Hastily, James wiped at his mouth. At least now it was quiet, with everyone mulling over what Josephine said. James felt a bitter taste rising in his mouth. He knew what his fate was. There would be some hope for his Inner Circle, however. They would be able to lead the lives they wanted, _however_ , they wanted. He just had too... Had too… Maker, he was shaking.

“I-” There was shifting, and he knew most of the Inner Circle had turned to look at him. Rubbing at his forehead, James kept his eyes on the ground. He couldn’t look at them, not when he was going to tell them this. Not when he was going to admit to being so close to death. James swallowed and tried again. “It’s been… getting worse.” He admitted, taking a breath, “I don’t know why. Or how to stop it.” James laughed slightly.

“Not that I don’t love your speeches Inquisitor but…” James looked up, seeing Varric stepping forwards. “What exactly are you planning?” Well, he wasn’t exactly _planning_ anything. He did know what he wanted to happen, but no one here would like it. Oh well. He might as well say it. Forcing his face into a stoic mask, James looked Varric in the eyes.

“I… Don’t know how much time I have left,” James said, wincing as his mark hissed. He forced himself to not react to the way Varric stiffened, the way Sera’s eyes got wide, the way Dorian shook his head, mouth curled into a fine line. “What I do know,” He said quickly, stopping any rebuttals, “is that the Qunari need to be stopped. So I need to get to the Darvaarad while I can still fight.”

“Like shite, you need to do anything!” Sera exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. She looked mad at him, but her enthusiasm was endearing. James felt the corners of his mouth twitch, and he watched as Cole nodded to Sera’s words. Blackwall ( _Thom_ , he corrected) stepped towards him, looking about the same as Sera; mad and worried.

“With all due respect, Inquisitor, you’re hardly in any shape to travel to and from your room. Fighting now won’t help you.” James gritted his teeth as Bull and Dorian both straightened, after sharing a glance. Dammit. He _needed_ to help. He wasn’t going to be tossed aside now, not when they were almost done.

“I’m not going to let you all risk your lives for me again and again,” James said, hands clenching into fists. “And I will not sit by while there is still a threat that we brought in ourselves around.” Frowning, James watched his companions, daring them to argue against him. He was going, whether they wanted him to or not. Finally, Bull spoke up.

“As long as you’ve got people with you, boss,” Bull scratched at his chin, “I don’t think it’s a bad idea.”

* * *

The air was filled with static, and James could feel the blood running down his face from his forehead. Fuck. It hurt to breathe. James grimaced as Cassandra and Bull tore through the Qunari soldiers, casting a new barrier across the two fighters. Sera wasn’t visible to him, but the arrows just kept coming, so he figured that she must be safe.

The eluvian ahead of them glimmered in the low light, and James shuddered slightly. Ducking down, James used the end of his staff to hit at the inside of the man’s knees, attempting to knock him down. That didn’t exactly work, and instead, James found himself flat on his back, a Qunari greatsword barreling down towards his head. James turned to his side in a desperate attempt to dodge the blow. It wasn’t needed.

There was a grey blur, and James heard Bull’s shout as he slammed into the Qunari soldier, sending him toppling off of the bridge. James coughed, glancing around at them. That had been the last of them, at least for now.

“Thanks.” He grunted as Bull heaved him to his feet, hearing both Cassandra and Sera approaching. James spared another glance at the eluvian. He was tired. So, so tired. But Solas was in danger, was maybe even been a pawn of this ‘Fen-Harel’ character. “I need to go to him.” He said, panting slightly. Cassandra just nodded, wiping a smear of blood off of her face.

“We will follow, Inquisitor.” James grinned weakly at them, beginning to hobble towards the eluvian. As he pushed himself through, he heard a shout from behind him. When neither Cassandra or Bull or Sera followed after him, he felt his stomach plummet.

Well, shit.

* * *

Solas, as it turns out, was not Solas at all, but Fen-Harel, one of the ancient elven gods. And then apparently he wanted to wipe out the world by taking down the Veil? James didn’t exactly remember at this point. The pain was making thinking hard. Solas- Fen-Harel had attempted to remove the Anchor from him, and James wasn’t exactly sure that he had done it properly. His arm hurt  _ so much _ .

What was it that Varric had once told him? That this story was no good for heroes? James huffed, a bitter taste filling his mouth. He glanced down at his arm, almost gagging. It was disappearing slowly like it was being eaten by one of Sera’s acids. He had to move. Now.

James swallowed, throat feeling raw. He staggered past the now-stone Qunari, feet stumbling over one another. Fuck, his whole right side was on fire. His knees were suddenly damp, and distantly, James realized that he had collapsed. The eluvian was right there; He was so close to it. Gritting his teeth, James steeled himself. He had to tell them about Solas. Otherwise, they may not know until too late. His ears rang as he staggered through the eluvian, leaving behind the hot, damp air and entering the cool cavern. The first breath he took made his throat and lungs burn, and he coughed, bruised ribs aching.

“Quizzy!” Sera’s voice was a welcome sound, and he all but collapsed into Bull’s arms as his legs gave out from under him. James gritted his teeth, breathing in sharply through his nose as the pain worsened.

“Sera,” James gasped out, almost wheezing with the effort. Fuck his arm hurt. He thrashed when Bull attempted to touch his disappearing arm. No, no, no. This was not happening. James swallowed down the bile in his throat, heart racing. “Fuck,” he hissed, squeezing his eyes shut, sweat dripping down his cheeks. Or were those tears? 

“The Anchor needs to go.” Bull’s voice was loud in his ears and James shook his head, vision starting to blur.

“No. No no no no.” James swatted at their hands, gasping when another wave of pain sparked up his arm. Fuck, he could hear his heart beating in his ears. What had they just been talking about? He felt faint and he swayed, trying not to vomit. What was happening to him? Everything hurt so bad.

There were a few sentences that he didn’t catch, but suddenly, he was on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Cassandra’s face came into view, and he tried to speak. She just pressed her hands into his shoulders, keeping him on the floor. Sera wrapped something tightly around his arm, and James winced as another spasm of pain racked his body. Skittering back, Sera wiped at her face, cheeks a splotchy red. What was going on? 

James weakly struggled, squirming underneath Cassandra’s hands. He jerked his head from right to left, disorientated and dizzy. To his left, Bull was standing there, grimly heating his axe over a brasier. When the edge was a dull red glow, Bull pulled it back, holding the axe in front of him with both hands. James locked eyes with Bull, staring up at him with confusion. Was Bull crying? He hadn’t ever seen Bull cry. Why was Bull crying? Over the roaring in his ears, James heard Bull’s voice.

“Sorry, Boss.” He said regret clear in his voice, and one of Cassandra’s hands pushed his head the other way. James blinked as his cheek touched the cool stone, something that tasted like leather being stuffed into his mouth. What were they doing now? The pain was gone. His body was tingling slightly, sure, but he didn’t feel anything. James was just floating, which was much better than being in pain if you asked him. 

There was a moment of silence in the cavern and James attempted to push the glove out of his mouth. He heard a blade swinging, and then he was screaming into the glove, struggling erratically under Cassandra’s iron grasp. James thrashed his head, eyes squeezed shut. Fuck. The pain came back full force, and James realized that he was being picked up, something warm and sticky seeping into his shirt. He blinked the scenery around him changing rapidly.

_ At least death would be painless _ , he thought as his vision blurred, breaths becoming slower. James let himself go a little bit limp. It was like he was falling asleep, deep exhaustion grasping at his mind. James sighed, blinking slowly, letting things happen around him. 

“Fasta vass!” Distantly, he heard Dorian swearing, sounding as if he was underwater. Someone’s hand was pressing down at the pulse point in his neck, and he shifted, head tilting away. He was so tired. James groaned, and he felt the glove being taken out of his mouth. He was being jostled, and James realized he was now lying down. Oh. This was much nicer.

There were people’s faces coming into view but he couldn’t make them out. James tasted something faintly metallic, and he distantly realized that his mouth was being forced open. He could barely taste the elf root as the healing potion soothed the aches in his throat. His eyes were drooping, and he felt cold. Maker, he was dying.

“We need you awake for just a little longer darling.” Vivienne’s voice was a sudden burst of clarity, even though all James could see of her face was blurred. “I know it hurts, but you must stay alert. Do you understand that darling?” James just blinked at her and after a moment he curled his left hand into the best thumbs up he could give. He was being moved, and James felt his head rolling to the side, darkness dancing across his vision. Mumbling out a slurred apology he felt everything fading away.

James closed his eyes.


	2. |2| - Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I’m not going to let you all risk your lives for me again and again,” James said, hands clenching into fists. “And I will not sit by while there is still a threat that we brought in ourselves around.” Frowning, James watched his companions, daring them to argue against him. He was going, whether they wanted him to or not._
> 
> -
> 
> In which James deals with the loss of the Anchor, finds himself powerless, and attempts to hold himself together.

**9:44 -** **Halamshiral**

Everything felt foggy. Like he was floating outside of his body, aware of the world around him but separate to it. Similar to when he had woken up to Bull and Cole. Maker, that felt so long ago. When he had woken up after the Anchor acted up. When he had still had his… James swallowed, deliberately not looking down. It was fine. He was fine.

It was raining in Halamshiral, the noise a welcome distraction from his head. They had all had a long couple of days. Everyone was exhausted. 

The Inquisition was no more, which he was mostly pleased about. He wasn’t about to let the Chantry run the Inquisition into the ground, even if Cassandra was Divine Victoria. Something about the Inquisition being on the Chantry’s leash didn’t sit right with him. Maybe it was leftover from his time at the Circle. 

At least not all of his friends were leaving right away. Dorian had stayed, claiming that he could still make some useful connections. Bull, and the Chargers along with him, had stayed with Dorian, as they were supposed to be his escorts anyways. A few had left, Vivienne returning to her Estate, Varric and Cole moving back to Skyhold. Sera had gone back to her Jennies, Blackwall alongside her. Cassandra was the new Divine, already having left at the behest of the Chantry. Solas was-

Fuck. James squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to think about Solas. Not now. Not after what had happened to him.

“James?” There was a gentle hand pressing on his bare shoulder, warm against his chilled skin. James blinked, coming back fully into himself. He looked up, mind finally catching up to what was going on. Dorian shook his head, a fond smile on his face. “You’ll catch a cold, sitting up here half-naked.” There were heavier footfalls across the room, and he heard Bull snort.

“Boss, when was the last time this was on?” James knew without turning that Bull was speaking of the fireplace. He shrugged, not trusting his voice just yet. It was easier to just let the fire burn itself out than continue to renew it. Dorian muttered something in Tevene, he and Bull trading places. “Alright, up you go Boss.” His vision went dark for a moment, and James clutched at Bull’s bicep, swaying. 

“M’not…” James huffed, his vision finally clearing. “M’not your boss anymore.” Bull shrugged, leading him over to his bed. He gently ran his hand against the silk sheets, the texture feeling pleasant against his skin. The sound of Dorian casting made him start, but heat began to seep into him, the newly-lit fire casting the room in warm tones. James reached for his arm, attempting to curl around himself. When his hand met only air, James swallowed, biting at the inside of his mouth. Fuck. He was tearing up again.

“You going to keep standing there shirtless boss or do you want some help?” Bull asked, casually digging through his dresser. Looking over his shoulder, Bull gave him a lopsided smirk, eye shimmering with amusement. “I mean, it’s not a bad look on you-”

“Bull!” Dorian’s voice was stern, Bull’s laughter filling the quiet room. James let himself smile, eyes stinging less. He still scrubbed his hand over his face, taking in a deep breath. It was alright. He could be put together for a bit longer. Bull faced him once more, holding a grey shirt up and looking behind James, eyebrows raised. Dorian hummed. “Not a bad colour. I’d have chosen something with more green, _amatus_. It lightens his eyes nicely.” Bull just shook his head, sharing a small smile with James as if to ask _can you believe this man?_

“Whatever you say, _kadan_. I’m not the fashion expert here.” James bit his tongue as Bull helped him into the linen shirt, letting Dorian’s rambling wash over him in a comforting wave. He still felt a little drifty, and Dorian’s voice let him stay in the present. Thumbing at the hem of the shirt, James let Bull deal with the now unused right sleeve of his shirt. A quick knot let the sleeve hang loosely underneath what was left of his arm, and James sat quietly for a moment, letting Dorian and Bull bustle around his room. It almost felt wrong to let them clean up while he was sitting here, but he pressed that thought down. Dorian and Bull cared for him. That was why they were doing this.

“Does it…” James frowned, locking eyes with Bull, “Does it ever get better?” He asked, voice cracking partway through his sentence. Bull’s face softened, and he patted James on the shoulder, sitting beside him on the bed. The mattress dipped, and James felt Dorian sit beside him. 

“It does.” Bull said slowly, a thoughtful expression on his face. Dorian’s hand found James, and he gave it a gentle squeeze. “In time, it does. The pain becomes… less.” Bull sighed, rubbing at his chin, deep in thought. “But it always stays as a part of you.” James nodded, running his teeth over his bottom lip.

“I… feel like I’ll never be whole again,” James admitted, keeping his gaze resolutely on the floor. Dorian’s forehead pressed against his shoulder and his hand was being squeezed back. He let his cheek rest on Dorian’s head, letting his eyes close. Maker, he was shaking again. Bull’s hand was running along the length of his spine, a surprisingly comforting motion, while Dorian elected to hold James tighter. A few tears leaked down his face, and James squeezed his eyes shut hard.

 _Thank you_ , he thinks, biting his tongue. _Thank you for being here. Thank you for not leaving me behind. Thank you for being my friend._

_Thank you._

* * *

James forced a smile onto his face as he watched the last of Dorian’s things being loaded onto the cart. The Chargers were making some last-minute preparations for the journey. They, along with Bull, would be making the trip through Orlais and Nevarra, to the Tevinter border. A hand clapped down on James’ right shoulder and he winced slightly. He would get these aches in his shoulder and arm that would keep him up at night and linger throughout the day. They came and went as they pleased, it seemed. James had tried everything. Nothing seemed to work just yet, so he carried on with the pain. After all, he had spent almost four years dealing with the pain of the Anchor. He could deal with this pain a little longer.

“Glad to see you could make it, Boss.” Bull’s voice was low, and James let out a chuckle. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Bull’s form moved to stand beside him, facing the commotion in front of them.

“I wouldn't have missed it for anything,” James replied, watching as Dorian looked around the small group assembled with a small frown on his face. “And I’m not the Inquisitor anymore.” Bull snorted at that, crossing his arms over his chest. They had bickered about this for ages, but James couldn’t make himself care. Bickering with Bull had made him feel more normal. Or at least, the most normal he had felt since the removal of the Anchor.

“If you say so, Boss.” James sighed, a warm feeling growing in his chest. Dorian spotted the two of them, a smile breaking out over his face. He pulled James into a tight hug, the two of them holding each other tightly. James let himself pull Dorian as close as possible, relishing in the contact. Maker only knew when he’d see Dorian again, not just hear his voice. He pulled back, eyes a little red, face a little flushed. 

“Maker, what will you do without me?” Dorian said in an attempt to be haughty. James just smiled and shook his head, clapping Dorian on the shoulder. 

“Wait for you to get back, of course.” James smiled, watching as Dorian pursed his lips, attempting to hide a growing smile. Bull’s arms wrapped around the two of them and James grunted as they were squeezed together. Alright, maybe Dorian was right about Bull’s bone-crushing hugs. He stumbled backwards, wincing a little, but a smile on his face. 

“You ready, kadan?” Dorian huffed, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Of course I am.”

“You hear that boys?” Bull called out to the Chargers, some of whom cheered back at Bull. Grinning, Bull turned to James. “Alright Boss. We’ll be seeing you.” James couldn’t escape the hug that Bull wrapped him up in, patting Bull on the arm when he squeezed a little too tight. 

“Try not to have too much fun without me,” James said, trying to keep his voice light. He didn’t want Dorian to leave on a sad note, or have Dorian’s last in-person conversation with him be upsetting. Dorian had enough to worry about now.

“Keep yourself safe, my friend.” Dorian cupped James’ cheek in his hand. “You promise me?”

“Of course.” He said quietly, feeling Dorian pat his cheek gently. As Dorian stepped into his carriage, surrounded by The Chargers, James swallowed, feeling his eyes stinging slightly. He waved as Dorian stuck his head out the window, shaking his head as he watched them leave. James swallowed, wiping at his eyes. Fuck. Okay. He was fine.

Everything was so quiet, now that they were gone.

* * *

**9:44 -** **Skyhold**

James’ footsteps echoed through the empty halls of Skyhold, the distant sound of crows cawing filtering through the fortress. His path takes him past the atrium, which sits empty, despite the echoed murmurs of Mineave and the other researchers. Reaching up, James brushes his fingers against the smooth edges of the sending crystal. Shaking his head, James quickened his pace.

The Throne Room was similarly empty, nobles dispersing as the Inquisition drove itself to irrelevance. Varric’s table sat empty, and James felt a brief moment of panic. He hadn’t missed them, had he? They wouldn't have left that early, without saying goodbye?

His heart almost skipped a beat as he saw Varric conversing with Josephine, Hawke standing close behind him. Cole must have been around somewhere, as he too was travelling to Kirkwall. Thank the Maker. They hadn’t left yet. 

“Your Inquisitorialness!” Varric grinned as he approached, raising a hand to wave at him. James just shook his head, a fond smile worming its way onto his face.

“I’m not the Inquisitor anymore, Varric,” James replied, scratching at the back of his head, “Hawke.” She merely nodded at him, before returning to staring menacingly at Cullen, who was trying his best to pretend like he couldn't see her.

“True, true. I guess I’ll have to figure something out for you.” Varric rubbed his chin, a thoughtful look on his face. “How are you holding up?” James blinked, feeling a pang in his chest. Ah shit.

“As good as I can be, under the circumstances.” James smiled, fighting the itch to scratch at his right arm. He hated lying to Varric, but the poor man would worry about him. And he wanted Varric to focus on himself, not on him. Varric had been supporting him for almost four years. “But thank you, Varric.” Varric nodded, his lips pursing.

“You know, you could always come and see me in Kirkwall.” Varric’s tone was teasing, but his eyes showed a sincerity that made James swallow. 

“Thanks, Varric, but I’m headed to Ostwick first.” James unconsciously scratched at his cheek. Ostwick. It felt strange to say that he was going back. After the circle fell, he had travelled with a larger group of mages, which had led him to the Conclave as a mage representative. Being in the circle felt like it had been so long ago, and yet it had only been six years. So much had changed since then. Shaking his head slightly, James returned to the present. He had more important things to worry about than his time at the circle. “Family matters and all that.”

“Eh, well, my doors always open for you Inqu- James.” James’ mouth twitched, and he almost laughed. 

“Old habits die hard.” He said, arm moving to cross over his chest, retracting after a moment. Another thing he couldn’t do anymore. James bit his tongue as Varric turned back to Josephine. There was this feeling in his chest that he couldn’t place, a hollowness that he hadn’t felt before. It was just like when Dorian and Bull had left. He wasn’t lonely just... Fuck, would he ever see Varric again? Would he ever see any of them again? James rubbed at his mouth, a nervous habit that Josephine had tried (and failed) to train out of him.

“Hello.” Cole’s voice comes from behind him and James glanced over his shoulder. He was a little startled, but Cole usually had that effect.

“Hello, Cole.” James nodded, letting Cole draw closer to him at his own pace. “Thank you for the books.” Cole gave him a small smile, and James wearily smiled back. He had come back from the healers one afternoon feeling utterly drained and upset at himself. James had planned to sulk in bed for the rest of the day, but instead, he had found a few books tied together with twine sitting on his bed. They had been a nice distraction from his aching arm, and James had already read some of them twice.

“They let you escape, mind not your own for a while. It helps with the hurt… I think?” Cole sounded so hopeful, and James patted Cole on the shoulder.

“They did. Thank you.” Cole beamed at that, scampering away from James towards the horses. James sighed. Watching his friends leave hurt more than he’d ever admitted to himself. At least Cole, even though Cole could now do his weird mind-reading spirit thing on James, respected him enough not to pry too much. Just surface thoughts, which lead to things like the books appearing in his room. Or the honey-flavoured sweets that ended up in the pockets of his coats.

A crowd was forming, a few people stepping up to wish them all safe travels. James held back, watching from a distance. Josephine had insisted that they take some guards, even though they were fully capable of handling themselves. There were a couple of cheers from some of the staff as they began to lead their horses out through the gates, Cole turning back to wave at James. Smiling, James raised his hand, nodding. Cole turned back, still awkwardly crouched over his horse, like he had the million other times they had ridden somewhere.

James watched as they rode across Skyhold’s bridge, slowly becoming smaller and smaller until he could barely make them out against the snow and rock. After a few moments, the small crowd that had gathered to see them off began to disperse. There was a pang in his chest, and James pursed his lips. He was alone, standing in the middle of the courtyard. Maker, this was harder than he thought it would be. Rubbing at his throat, James turned and began making his way back to the hall, a hollow feeling in his chest.

At the time of the Inquisition’s founding, he hadn’t been looking for friends. Maker, he hadn’t even really been looking for allies. Just people who were skilled enough to help him close the Breach. If that James could’ve seen what his companions would become... Maybe he wouldn’t have been so cold towards them before the destruction of Haven. Maybe… they would’ve stayed.

James shook his head. It was over. His friends were gone. And he would likely never see them again. He swallowed, trying to rid himself of the lump growing in his throat. He was fine.

* * *

**9:44 -** **Along the Imperial Highway**

James’ head felt like it was full of cotton. Swimming somewhere between conscious and asleep, he struggled to return to the world around him. He blinked, an unknown wetness on the side of his face. There was a sudden jostling, and James realized that he was lying face down in a cart. Shit. What was happening? His jaw ached, and he attempted to swallow, only to taste cloth. Maker, he didn't know what was going on. Shifting, James realized that his ankles were bound, and his hand tied to something inside of the cart. Well shit.

Closing his eyes, again, James tried to remember what had happened before this.

_\- landing on his upper back, scrambling to his feet to avoid the greatsword heading for his chest. Just barely ducking out of the way of twin daggers, using his staff to sweep the thug’s feet out from under him. Energy growing wildly in his hands, unstable from lack of use. Cries of pain and terror as he unleashed the bolts, a bandit falling. Blades sinking into his shoulder, forcing him down. Iron tang in his mouth, blood rushing in his ears. The screams of his men around him as he was hit. Darkness overtaking him._

Shit. Fuck fucking shit.

They had been attacked by bandits. Yes, James could remember it so much clearer now. He had left Skyhold with a few nondescript guards, who Josephine had insisted he take with him. They had been travelling along the Imperial Highway for a few days. James was supposed to board a ship at Highever to get to Ostwick, and then his family would pick him up after a few weeks of sailing. They had been about two days away from reaching Highever when they were attacked. Maker, he was stupid. James let his forehead rest against the wooden planks of the cart. He should have been smarter than this. Should have known that they were probably going to get attacked on the road. His men had paid the price for his carelessness. And now he didn’t even know where he was.

His throat clammed up, and James barely resisted the urge to shudder. Fuck. No one knew where he was. And if these bandits or whoever didn’t care about who he was, he was probably going to die here. Or, wherever they were taking him. James squeezed his eyes shut tightly, not letting the stunning in his eyes overtake him. Fuck. He was fine. Definitely fine. Forcing himself to take a couple of deep breaths through his nose, James tried to calm down. He made his hand form a fist, wincing slightly as his muscles protested the movement. At least his hand still worked. 

The cart slowly came to a halt, and James swallowed around the cloth. Alright. He had faced down armies of demons and the Winter Palace. He could handle a few bandits looking for some quick gold. James repeated that sentiment in his head, even as a steel-toed boots connected with his busted ribs. He flinched, legs curling in a feeble attempt to shield himself. There were rough hands on him, hauling him to his feet and off of the cart. He stumbled, vision going spotty.

James shook his head slightly, blinking. Fuck, he was dizzy. Did he have blood on his face? Maker, he definitely did. That would explain why his head was throbbing. Had they slipped him something? It was possible. Magebane was easy to make, and James wouldn’t have put it past the bandits to have used it on him. He was less of a liability, drugged up like this.

Strong hands grabbed at his arm, and he followed as best he could with his feet bound together. The hands lead him through a camp and into a cave, where he was thrown to the floor. James grunted as his knees hit the stone floor, hand reaching forwards to brace himself. His ankles were being cut free, and the tie at the back of his head loosened. Sitting on his ankles, James raised his hand to the side of his head, hand coming away bloody. 

He was in a smaller cave, probably an offset of the larger one. Something heavy was being dragged over the entrance, and he blinked, shrouded in darkness. Dragging his hand down his face, James grimaced, head still pounding. The bleeding seemed to have stopped for now, but James wasn’t going to risk anything. James raised his hand to where he thought the cut was and attempted to send a wave of healing magic to it. He felt his magic attempting to reach him, but it fizzled out, contacting the magebane in his blood. Groaning, James flopped onto the ground. Shit. That was one plan out of the window. He pushed himself back until he met a wall of the cave, curling his arm around his stomach. There was no way of knowing how long he’d be here for. Or if he’d ever leave.

James swallowed, shivering slightly. His friends would come for him, wouldn’t they? Leliana knew he was supposed to be boarding a ship relatively soon, and if she didn’t receive word that he’d arrived in Ostwick she’d send people for him, or at least, he hoped she would.

Letting his head fall back, James sighed, his eyes beginning to sting slightly. He let the tears fall, a painful ache building in his chest. He would get through this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First post of 2020! hope you all enjoyed!


	3. |3| - New Faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which James plays the damsel in distress.

**9:44 - Bandit’s Hideout**

James winced as he was roughly thrown to the floor, bruised and scowling. It was becoming too common of an occurrence for his liking. Not like he had any say in it, anyways. The door to his cell was being dragged closed again, and he blinked, suddenly in darkness. His ears ringing slightly, James pressed up against the smooth rock walls of the cave, letting his head tip back.

He’d been trapped with these bandits for four, five days, maybe? Enough time for it to be taking a worrying toll on his mental state, but not enough time for him to have been reported missing. James sighed. 

He felt down his face, wincing as he brushed past sensitive bruises. Good, good. Nothing broken. It was hard to see in the dark, but he had some experience in injuries. Luckily nothing seemed to be broken, besides his ankle. 

James winced. That hadn’t been a fun day.

The bandits, worryingly enough, hadn’t realized that he had been the Inquisitor. Someone who would probably get them a good amount of money if they knew who to bargain too. But no, they apparently believed that he was someone of import from Ferelden, who was in with the King. (He was from  _ Ostwick _ , for Maker’s sake. He couldn’t pin Aramanthine on a map to save his life. And King Alister, while kind, hadn’t spoken more than twenty sentences to him.) The bandit’s leader had gotten it into her head that he could tell them about secret passageways into the castle, the locations of hidden vaults and such. And she assumed that the best way to get answers from his was to beat them out.

So yes, James wasn’t having a great time, and he was very displeased with how things were going at the moment. He was supposed to be sailing to Ostwick by now, not rotting in a cave in the middle of fucking Ferelden.

James gritted his teeth as someone banged on the heavy metal plate covering the entrance to his cell, laughter leaking through after a moment. He hated this place. He wanted to go home, wanted to be able to relax after four years of saving Thedas (again and again and  _ again _ ).

Crossing his arm over his chest, James closed his eyes, trying to relax. Someone would come for him. He just hoped they arrived before the bandits got tired of him.

* * *

“You little-” James’ head snapped to the side, a dull ache flaring along his cheek. He scowled, glaring up at the woman in front of him. She was pacing again, and so James took the moment to just breathe. Flexing his hand, he attempted to stretch to relieve the tension. That just made him tug at his bindings, and he scowled. His knees were beginning to ache again and he shifted slightly, gritting his teeth. If he sat back, he would be sitting right on his ankle, and that would make the injury worse than it already was. If he put too much weight on his knees, they would ache for days. He ached all over, really. Sleeping on a stone floor will do that to a person. Maker, he was so bruised. “Take him away.” The woman was facing away from him, staring down at a table. She waved her hand over her shoulder, and James was being lifted off of his knees. Thank the Maker. A grim-looking man put his hand on the back of James’ neck, the other tightly gripping his elbow.

He was tugged through the camp, arm bound behind him, ankles bound together. Fuck, it was freezing. Even though the cave was sheltered, he was just in a linen shirt and pants. It wasn’t like they were draping him in furs. His cell was just as cold as the rest of the cave, and James shivered as the metal plate was dragged over the opening. Maker, they hadn’t even united him this time. He let his head fall back, eyes closed. His body felt like one large bruise.

A few hours passed, and James drifted in and out of consciousness. At this point, he was unsure of how long he had been here. Days? The beatings and magebane were messing with his perception of time. His head spun, and the bitter aftertaste of magebane was becoming all too common in his mouth. James just hoped someone would come. Demons were starting to plague him as he slept off his beatings, and he was more mentally drained than ever.

Maker, he had just wanted to return to Ostwick after four years of saving the world. Apparently that had been too much to ask for. James bitterly chuckled to himself, eyes closed and arm over his chest. 

* * *

He had been sleeping when the battle began, that much was obvious. Now, he was trapped in his cave, without armour or magic. Someone screamed distantly, and James flinched, scrambling backwards until his back met stone. Fuck. The battle was getting closer.

He had been awoken by an explosion, the ground shaking slightly, and he had been disorientated at first. People had been rushing by his cave, frantic footsteps passing by. James had wondered if the Inquisition had arrived but promptly dismissed that thought from his mind when a battle began. If this was the Inquisition, there would have been multiple groups attacking, and a group sent in to get him specifically. From the sounds of it, it was a smaller group, although they seemed to be picking off lots of the bandits. Or the bandits were picking off lots of them.

James swallowed, bringing his knees up to his chest, wincing slightly as his stiff muscles protested the action. Oh, what he wouldn’t give for a real bed. Or just a mattress. Or even just a blanket, so that he wasn’t so Maker-damned cold all the time. 

There was an explosion, much closer than the last one. The ground rumbled, and the metal plate covering his cave shook slightly. His ears rang, and James swore under his breath. The battle was getting closer and closer to him. 

The metal plate covering his cave was ripped open, and James froze, watching as a leather-armoured man peered into his cave. It was one of the men he had seen around camp, but his face was desperate, almost worried. The fight must have been going badly, then. James resisted the urge to laugh, biting down at the insides of his cheeks.

James’ eye caught a flash of metal in the man’s hand, a slow determination settling inside of him. The man crept forwards, brandishing his knife, trying to be threatening. His reflexes were slowed, because of the magebane, but maybe, if he could move fast enough, he could doge by the bandit and run. James forced himself to his feet, ignoring the aches in his back, shoulders pulled in as he braced himself. His heart thumping in his ears, James readied himself. He had one shot at this. If he could escape now, then he would be fine.

The man moved first, knife flashing, darting around James. Staggering forwards, James grunted, the world spinning for a moment before it righted itself. James couldn’t quite get his limbs to follow his movements, every attempt like he was swimming through molasses. Shit. The magebane must have still been in his system. He turned, attempting to face the man, but an arm locked itself around his neck, and he crashed to the floor.

James flung his arm out, thumping against the man’s side, but the arm around his throat tightened, and his vision grew spotty. He wheezed, hand clawing at the man’s arm, but it was of no use. Darkness began to close in, and James’ hold on consciousness began to waver. Things began to fade into darkness, high-pitched ringing in his ears as he gasped. 

The sudden release from his hold sent James to his knees, blood roaring in his ears. He opened his mouth, only to cough and gasp as he was grabbed by the back of his neck, forced onto one knee. James’ vision cleared, and he swallowed unconsciously, almost raising his hand up to his throat. His mouth tasted slightly like ash and vomit, and James

He was being tugged up to his feet, the hand still clutching the back of his shirt. Stumbling, James’ vision swam, each breath sending an ache through his lungs. Fuck, had one of his ribs been broken? The knife was back, pressing against the small of his back, the man’s hand moving to grab at his good arm.

“Move.” The man growled, and James took a couple of hesitant steps forwards, picking up his pace when the hand on his arm tightened. He raised his head, watching as he was led towards the opening of his cave cell. He was led through the main cave, across to where the bandit leader had interrogated him days before. There were a few bodies lying around, some burnt to a crisp, other’s bloody messes against the stone floor. Outside, he could hear fighting, the sound of steel against steel making the man push him forwards, pace quickening.

They had a small moment of respite when the man tugged him into a secluded area of the cave, one that had wooden walls put up as if mimicking privacy. James swallowed as he was all but shoved into hiding, the knife pressing up against his throat.

There was a woman in the doorway, dressed in warden blues and plate mail. She had a rather large sword and James swallowed, the edge of the knife pressing against his throat. Her eyes dart between James and the man behind him, mouth in a thin line. 

“I don’t have to kill you, you know,” The woman said slowly, eyes narrowing slightly. “We can talk this out peacefully, instead of resorting to violence like barbarians,” The bandit pressed the knife harder against James’ throat and James tipped his head back slightly.

“S-Shut up!” James detected a slight tremble in the man’s voice. “I’ll do it.” The knife pricked at his skin, and James swallowed, all too aware of how his skin shifted against the sharp edge of the knife as he did so. The woman took a step closer and James froze as the blade nicked his neck, his hand clenching into a fist. He made eye contact with the woman, wondering if any of his fear was shown on his face. It probably was.

“Listen,” The woman held out a hand to the man, “You don’t need to do that, I’m sure-“ The man cut in, voice sharp.

“Shut u-“ The man’s words were cut off with a gargle and the arm around James grew slack. Something damp sprayed across the back of his neck and head, but at this point, he was too relieved to care.

“Didn’t even see it coming,” A new voice from behind him, another man from what he could tell. James fell to his knees, his one hand coming forwards to brace itself on the stone floor. “Not my problem!” The man’s voice said cheerily, quick footsteps leaving the room.

“You can’t just,“ The woman made a frustrated groan, and James heard heavy footsteps approach him. James blinked up at her, vision blurring. The woman stared down at him, shocked. He vaguely recognized her, but couldn’t put a name to her face. Someone he had met at Adamant, maybe? She was a Warden, if the armour was to be believed.

“Are you… alright?” Her hand briefly touched his shoulder, steadying him, and James swallowed, the world around him spinning.

“Huh,” He said before his eyes rolled back and he slumped over, dead to the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter sapped literally all creative energy out of my body And its still kinda shit. Sorry for the wait for those who enjoy this fic.
> 
> I’ve got more free time, but i make no promises about updates

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where this idea came from but something in me possessed me to write it so... here we are!


End file.
